"Gwen! Gwen!" She shouts and then i know i have to get away. My stumbling feet find the dents, the tar pebbles sticking to my flip flops.
Then finally, I see the opening in the dark. Down the hallway is the window, it's crumbling paint and rust crawling toward the clear glass.
I fly through the hall, fingers scraping against the hollow white plaster.
Farther, faster! My eyes are screaming for the clear, fresh light.
Throw open the splintering window, my fingers slip up and off the smooth wood. "Gwen! Come back here! You're mother needs you! I'm sorry! Don't do this!"Marcia screams. Her mouth is chapped and dry. I can see the whites of her eyes, creased with pain and tears never cried.
Please don't let her catch up. I can't do this if she catches up.
I'm almost out, almost free, the thin tin door, the pad-locked back door, those stupid grape nuts. It was going to be gone, as soon as i was out that window. Onto the fire escape.
I stick my face out the tiny space, and WIND, burning ice wind! Beatiful air, fresh clean brilliance. Blue sky, endless sky. It almost makes me believe that if you lept up out of the world onto the sky, maybe you would keep flying, forever swimming in fresh blue.
"Gwen, stop. Please." The pleading is gone, only desperation. The voice is cracked.
And i turn, No! That is my mistake, her eyes are bloodshot, full of unshed tears and mirrors of gray. I almost stop there, and go back, help mom out of the bed and burn my ideas of passion and love and real life. But I think then, that the weak coffee in her eyes will wrap around my neck and pull me down, drown me in her selfless, resentful, death.
And suddenly the sounds of Marcia's zombie pleading, the gray carpet and crumbling paint fly away, far away from my ears and eyes.
I know that it will be over either way, either i will dissapear again, or out in the real bright world, flying with the pigeons.
I jump out the window and suddenly i'm real for the first time in my life, out of this suffocating paper bag i've been living in.